Why was the sleazy part of Kelly's existence so rigidly walled off, so tightly compartmentalized from the rest of her life? Who was she hiding it from?
Kara had always thought she knew her twin. Now she wondered if she had known Kelly at all.
But there was someone who might at least know something: the Dr. Gates on the label of Kelly's sleeping pills. Kara had called the drug store on the label and the pharmacist had told her that the prescription had come from a Dr. Lawrence Gates, a psychiatrist in Chelsea. Kara hadn't been that surprised at the specialty. Maybe he was just what Kelly had needed. Getting to him was the first thing on Kara's list of things to do tomorrow.
Tomorrow. She hated the idea of staying overnight in the city, but couldn't see any alternative. Silly to waste a couple of hours each way fighting the traffic in and out every day. For years Aunt Ellen had been asking her to come and stay with her for a few nights. This time Kara would take her up on it. No rush to finish up here. She could take her time. Kelly's check book showed that her rent was paid up to the end of the month.
"Come on," she told Jill. "It's taco time."
As she led Jill out through the front door of Kelly's apartment building into the chilly twilight, she almost bumped into a man standing on the front steps.
"Very sorry," he said with the start of a smile.
Kara was about to smile in return and excuse herself when she noticed his eyes widening in shock and the color bleaching from his cold-reddened cheeks.
"My God! It's you!" he cried. "Dear sweet Jesus, it's you! You're alive!"
Startled, Kara clutched Jill against her and pressed back against the building's front door which had closed and latched behind her.
"What's he saying, Mom?" Jill cried. Kara could hear the terror in her voice. "What's he saying?"
Kara didn't answer. Her mind was racing, trying to recall the various options she had been taught in her women's self-defense courses. But she'd been poised and ready in those classes, and standing on a padded gymnasium floor. This was on a set of stone steps with a child clinging to her.
But the man didn't seem to be threatening them. More confused and frightened than anything else. And he was backing down the steps, away from them. Well dressed, like a fortyish yuppie, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a nut case. Kara decided to hurry him on his way.
"I don't know what your problem is, buster," she said in her toughest voice, "but you'd better take it somewhere else! And quick!"
At the bottom of the steps he stopped and squinted up at her. He seemed to regain some of his composure.
"I… I'm terribly sorry," he said. His voice was quavering. "For a moment there I thought you were someone else. But I see you're not. Your hair is straighter and…" His voice trailed off. "You're just not her."
A thought struck Kara.
"You knew my sister?"
The man suddenly seemed very tense, as if he were preparing to run away.
"Sister?"
"Yes. Kelly Wade."
The man glanced around, looking indecisive. Then he took a deep breath and looked directly at Kara.
"Yes. I knew her. It's just terrible about her… about what happened to her."
"Did you know her well?"
"No. Just a little. Hardly at all."
Kara's hopes fell. This fellow wasn't going to be any help.
"Do you live here?" she asked.
"Uh, no. I was just coming by to, uh, see if there was any family around so that I could express my condolences."
"I'm family."
"Yeah. I can tell." He managed a quick, nervous smile. "You could be her twin."
"I am."
Another quick smile, little more than a flicker. "No wonder. The resemblance is spooky."
"And this is my daughter, Kelly's niece."
"How do you do," he said to Jill, and Kara immediately liked him for speaking directly to the child. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened to your sister," he told Kara. "I… I wish there was something I could say."
An idea occurred to Kara. This fellow seemed like a harmless sort, and genuinely upset by Kelly's death. He was the only person Kara had met today who knew Kelly; maybe he could give her some insight into her sister's life in New York before the end.
"We were just going out for a bite to eat. Want to come along?"
As long as they stayed in a public place like a restaurant, what harm was there?
"Oh, no," he said, quickly. "I've got to be going."
"Okay," Kara said and started down the steps with Jill at her side. "Good night, then."
They were on the sidewalk and on their way to the corner when he trotted up behind them.
"Maybe just for a few minutes."
"Fine," said Kara. She held out her hand. "I'm Kara Wade, by the way."
He shook it and seemed to fumble for his own name.
"Ed," he said finally, "Ed Bannion."
▼
"I met her at St. Vincent's," Ed was saying. "She took such special care of my mother when she had complications after her gallbladder surgery. I was very impressed with her."
They were seated near the window on the second floor of Pancho Villa's. Kara licked the salt off the rim of her margarita and watched the rush hour traffic thicken in the growing darkness outside. Jill was next to her, dipping tortilla chips into the bowl of salsa and listening to the strolling guitar player singing two tables away. Ed sat across from her, sipping his own margarita.
Now that they were inside and in the light, Kara saw that he was a fairly good looking man, late thirties, with thinning brown hair. He might have been more attractive if he weren't so tired looking. There were dark circles under his eyes; he seemed tense.
"You don't work at the hospital, then?" Kara said.
"Oh, no. Why do you ask?"
"I thought you might be a doctor."
"Actually, I'm a lawyer."
"How well did you know Kelly?"
"Not well at all, unfortunately. We had lunch together a few times. I liked her a lot." He shrugged. "It might have developed into something more, but…"
Kara nodded. But Kelly's time was cut short.
Ed said, "I sensed she was a very special person, but I know hardly anything about her. What can you tell me?"
Kara told him about Kelly's passion for mystery novels and 60's folk rock, how her favorite thing was to lie on her couch munching Dorito chips while reading John D. MacDonald and listening to the Byrds or the Lovin' Spoonful. She liked middle period van Gogh paintings and old Tracy and Hepburn movies. Jill added in her own anecdotes about her best times with her Aunt Kelly.
Ed listened attentively. If anything, he appeared puzzled, as if he wasn't hearing what he expected.
Then it was their turn for the strolling guitarist. He stepped up to their table and wanted to know if they had any requests. He was dressed as a caballero and wore a huge sombrero. Kara was about to say no when Jill piped up and asked for the only Mexican song she knew.
"La Bamba!" she said.
Kara and Ed listened politely while the singer ran through the song. He offered a more traditional rendition than the Richie Valens-Los Lobos version Jill was used to, but she seemed enthralled nonetheless.
During the song, Kara realized that this encounter was not going the way she had hoped. Ed knew less about Kelly's New York life than Kara did. The information was flowing the wrong way. But at the moment she didn't see a way out.
The three of them clapped when the guitarist finished. He added a nice accent to the restaurant's ambience, but Kara was glad to see him move on to another table.
"Can I go over and listen, Mom?" Jill said.
"Sure," Kara told her. "Just don't get in his way."
Ed smiled as he watched her go. "Looks like that singer has got himself a fan."
"Jill loves music," Kara said. "So did Kelly."
"What a shame," Ed said, shaking his head and staring down at the tablecloth. "I was so shocked when I read ab
out her fall. So tragic."
"Fall?" Kara said. She glanced around to make sure Jill was out of ear shot. "Kelly didn't fall! She was pushed!"
Ed's head snapped up. His face was pale and his eyes were wide as he looked at her.
"No-no! She fell! It was an accident!"
Kara was surprised by his vehemence.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because," he said slowly in a calmer tone, although he still appeared upset, "I simply cannot believe that anyone would want to harm her."
"Neither can I," Kara said. It was a natural conclusion. Who would want to hurt Kelly? "But it's true. She was murdered."
"Oh, God!"
Ed ran a trembling hand across his face. He had gone another shade paler. He looked as if he was going to be sick.
It occurred to Kara that if the thought of Kelly being murdered upset him like this, he must have cared for her a lot more than he had let on. Obviously he knew nothing about Kelly's bizarre sexual behavior—and he wasn't going to learn of it from Kara.
"I'm sorry if I upset you," she said.
"No, it's all right. It's just such a shock. Do the police have any idea…?"
"Nothing," Kara said without trying to hide the bitterness that leapt into her voice. "They've got a description of two guys and a set of fingerprints, but no suspects."
"Are they… are they close?"
"Apparently not. And I'm afraid that if they don't find someone soon, they'll forget about Kelly. But I won't let them. I'm a very persistent person. I'll be on their backs. I won't let Kelly's file wind up on the bottom of their stack of unsolved murders."
"Good for you," Ed said, but his voice was flat.
He still appeared to be in a state of shock, but his color was better. He seemed to be pulling out of it.
Kara noticed that Jill was on her way back to the table.
"Let's change the subject, shall we?"
"Gladly," Ed said.
He paused, staring off into space, then seemed to come to a decision. He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a card.
"Here's my number."
Kara recognized the mountain logo. "You work for Paramount?"
"I'm with their legal department. I do mostly corporate law now, but I can still help you with the police. I want you to keep me informed as to what's going on with your sister's case. Because if there are any problems, of if they start giving you the runaround, they'll start hearing from me as well."
Kara was touched.
"That's very nice of you. Kelly was lucky to have a friend like you."
"It's the least I can do."
▼
I'm certifiably insane, Ed Bannion thought as he rode across town in the back of a cab. He had dropped the woman and her daughter off at the dead sister's apartment and was now eager to get back to his own place on West 70th. Insane! That's the only explanation for what I did tonight!
He blamed it on the uncanny resemblance between the two sisters. For a moment there he'd actually thought the dead woman had come back to haunt him. He'd been so shook up he'd given her his real name. Idiot! After that, there was no turning back. Thank God he'd had the foresight to prepare a little story ahead of time. Never could have made up one on the spot.
And her talking about her dead sister as if she were all sweetness and light, Florence Nightingale herself. The little girl backed her up, too. Hard to believe they were talking about the sex kitten he'd had in the Plaza last week.
But maybe… maybe they weren't. Maybe they were talking about that frightened miserable woman he'd seen just before she ran for the window.
And then the sister—the live one, Kara—had dropped the bombshell: murder.
Murder!
He'd almost dropped his margarita! Even now it sent a sick shudder through him. How could they think it was murder? She went through that window entirely on her own!
Ed had sat there wanting to retch, wanting to get up and run from the restaurant. He'd seriously considered excusing himself to the men's room and not coming back. But he'd made himself stay calm while his mind raced, and had then come up with an idea. Only time would tell if it was the craftiest or stupidest act of his life.
His card.
If he could stay in touch with her, she could keep him abreast of where the police investigation was headed. He had to know. So far it sounded as if he and Phil were safe. Nothing to link either of them to the girl or to the Plaza. But they were hardly home free. And if something new turned up, he wanted to know. If the case was being downgraded to inactive, which he prayed it soon would be, he wanted to know that, too.
But then there was something else.
Ed found himself strangely attracted to this Kara Wade. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. He felt oddly close to her. As if… as if he already had a relationship with her. Because of her sister, he felt as if he'd already made love to her.
Pretty weird.
He had a feeling that his life was never going to be the same again. Something within him had changed last Tuesday night, as if he'd passed through a flame and had come out a different person on the other side. He was going to have to take charge of things a little more instead of simply letting them happen to him. And he felt protective toward Kara Wade, as if he owed her something.
Maybe he did. Maybe he owed her a sister.
An odd thought.
Whatever happened, he fully intended to see more of Kara Wade.
▼
Kara had left Jill on the couch watching tv while she straightened up some of the mess she had made of the apartment. When she was done, she found Jill sound asleep. The thought of spending the night here in Kelly's apartment gave her a mild case of the creeps, but she didn't have the heart to wake Jill and drag her over to Ellen's. Something ghoulish about sleeping in Kelly's bed, so she curled up beside Jill on the couch. Besides, it wouldn't be so bad staying here if they were together.
Kara closed her eyes and fought off the intense loneliness that pressed in on her. Even snuggled up close to Jill, she felt so alone.
Kelly was gone. How would she ever get used to that? It had always been the two of them. When they had come to New York together they used to sing that Paul Williams song, "You and Me Against the World." She remembered how she liked the Helen Reddy version and Kelly preferred Paul Williams' because she liked the bridge that Reddy had left out. And even when Kara had returned to Pennsylvania, leaving Kelly behind, her twin had only been a phone call or less than two hours' drive away. And even if she'd been in Pago Pago, just knowing Kelly was somewhere she could be reached had made all the difference.
Now Kelly was out of reach forever.
Kara bit back a sob and hugged Jill tighter.
You 'n' me, kid. Just you 'n' me.
February 10
11:45 A.M.
Kara arrived early at Dr. Gates' office—on the third floor of a brick and glass office building on Seventh Avenue in Chelsea. She was surprised at the size of his waiting room. So tiny. But then, one psychiatrist seeing one patient an hour wouldn't need much space. It was decorated like a comfortable den in someone's home— warm colors, soft furniture, subdued lighting, and a glowing tropical fish tank built into one of the walls.
Jill headed immediately for the fish tank. Kara headed for the secretary-receptionist seated at the desk in the corner, typing on a computer keyboard. Directly to the receptionist's right was a heavy wooden door marked "CONSULTATION."
It hadn't been easy to worm her way into Dr. Gates' appointment book, but through a persistent series of calls starting early this morning during which she refused to take no for an answer, Kara had managed to extract a promise of a few minutes with him on his lunch hour.
The receptionist told her that the doctor was with his last patient of the morning and would see her when he was through.
"Would it be all right if I left my daughter out here with you while I talk to Dr. Gates?" Kara said.
The receptionist's exp
ression was sour when she looked up from her keyboard.
"We do not provide baby-sitting services here."
"I realize that," Kara said. "But I'm from out of town and have no one to leave her with. This was a last minute arrangement. My appointment's only for a few minutes. She'll be no trouble, I assure you."